


The Wolf and the Lamb

by ThylacineLily



Series: Kaster Lock [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Kaster!Lock, M/M, Priest!John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-10
Updated: 2016-08-10
Packaged: 2018-08-07 19:54:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7727707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThylacineLily/pseuds/ThylacineLily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It wasn't long before a noise carried down the tunnel, a low and rumbling growl that made John stop in his tracks</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Wolf and the Lamb

**Author's Note:**

> I am so sorry that it took so long to ever make this. Not too long after I made the first two I was made an AM and it made my schedule tighter than it had been at the time, but now I'm a full-fledged store manager so this might be the last thing I post in general for a long time. Who knows? Maybe I'll wind up being able to get back into writing more again when things calm down at the store. I hope you all find this worth the wait, and I'm excited to hear what you think of it! Enjoy! (Hopefully!)

_"So...does this mean you'll be going then?"_

_"I had only planned on staying until the rain had slowed," Sherlock answered, regarding John with a slight curiosity as he now set his mind on trying to figure out how to take John with him. "I've overstayed my welc-"_

_"No." John interrupted. "No you haven't. I've really enjoyed your company, and as I already said, I don't get much. You could even stay longer if you would like."_

_Sherlock rose to his feet and looked down at John. "I do have to take my leave, I'm afraid, would you please see if my blanket is dry?" He watched as John gave a short nod and rose to his feet before he left him in the dining room to go to the laundry room. While he was alone, Sherlock removed the robe and folded it over the back of the chair he had been sitting in, wishing he could stay, but he knew he couldn't. He would have to trick John into touching him so that he could kidnap him_ **. No. No tricking. John deserves to decide whether he stays here or goes with me.**

_When John returned and handed over his blanket, stating it was dry and warm, Sherlock wrapped it around himself and then looked at the priest. "Are you sure I couldn't repay you?" He questioned. "You could take one of my gems if you like. A ruby perhaps? Maybe a spinel or emerald?"_

_"I already told you Sherlock, I got enough from helping you, and from enjoying your company," John answered as he walked with him to the door. "Will I see you again? Around town I mean."_

_Sherlock locked eyes with John one last time as he stepped out into the night and pulled a section of the blanket into a hood that he pulled over his head._ **Sod it all.** _"There's only one way to see me again, John," he spoke softly, his deep voice barely heard._

_"How?" Gone was the hesitation from earlier as it was replaced with a slight desperation as they looked at each other._

_Reaching his arm out to John, Sherlock spoke again, and hoped that he would not be denied. "Take my hand."_

_John looked down at the offered hand and then looked up to Sherlock's face, allowing the Kaster to watch the small play of emotions on John's face as the man stayed still. His heart felt as if it were sinking to his stomach in the heavy silence that was slowly becoming more and more awkward. Until a hand slipped into his own. He locked eyes with John, and both men shared a smile before Sherlock led his John, who happily followed his Sherlock, out into the darkness and into the new life John had chosen. Mycroft's hunger be damned._

The pair had fled into the night, neither of them pausing to look back at the home John no longer called his, and they stayed quiet until they reached the woods; Sherlock slowed his pace here and John met the new pace. The thick growth of trees provided the perfect cover for the human and Kaster to safely make their journey. All was quiet between the two, a comfortable silence, until it was Sherlock who spoke to John.

"I suppose I must mention, before we reach our destination, that we will not be alone." Even though his voice was a hushed murmur, in the silent darkness of the seemingly endless forest, it sounded loud. "I have a brother, older one, and as we are a pair from a dying breed we live with one another."

"You two are close then?" John questioned in a hushed voice.

Sherlock rewarded his query with a scoff before he answered. "No, we are not close, far from it. Our living situation has nothing to do with sentiment; it is about survival. We take turns hunting, building our next stockpile for times when pickings are slim, or it is difficult for us to get out to find food." He stopped to hold a branch out of the way for John to get by without difficulty. "If one can not hunt, then the other goes out instead."

John mulled over the words in his head as Sherlock spoke. It bothered him how his mind was starting to associate the words "liquid sex" with the Kaster's voice. But it wasn't his fault that this man was gifted with such enticing vocal chords. He wondered if Sherlock's keen deducing skills had informed the Kaster just what an effect he had on the poor human. "So you're living together out of necessity."

"There is no need to repeat what I have just said John..."

John raised a brow as he fixed a look on the taller man's back. "No need to be cheeky either."

_**"He'll keep you on your toes..."** _

Sherlock mentally snarled at his brother, shutting up the internal noise. He glanced over his shoulder at the man that followed him so willingly. This ex-soldier was intriguing to say the least, proving to be a puzzle that Sherlock was meant to solve otherwise his mind would never rest. "How do you feel about the violin?"

"I'm sorry, what?"

"I play the violin when I'm thinking, sometimes I don't talk for days on end, would that bother you? I suppose if we're going to be living together we should know about each other."

John stared at Sherlock, unblinking for a moment before he shook his head. "Do you play well?"

Sherlock glanced over his shoulder at his companion with a slight, almost playful, grin. "Mycroft knows better to complain. So, will it bother you?"

"No. No it won't bother me one bit."

Sherlock nodded and the two fell into another silence that lasted only five minutes or so, until they reached what seemed to be a large hill or was it a mound? The walk up the hill led them to the source of what scattered roots John could see, jabbing up out of the ground in different places. It was a huge, obviously very old, tree and John watched as Sherlock turned sideways and slipped into a hole at the front of it. Hesitating for only a moment before he followed, John swallowed the lump of fear that had suddenly formed in his throat and entered the tree.

As the hole opened up to a cavern under the mound, hill, whatever it was, the pair was swallowed by a pitch black that hid away their figures that the moon had once cast light on. In the darkness John could see nothing at all, but Sherlock's eyes could easily see and he took John's hand within his own, guiding his new companion towards his new home. It wasn't long before a noise carried down the tunnel, a low and rumbling growl that made John stop in his tracks. He searched in the darkness for Sherlock, his grip on the other man's hand tightening only ever-so-slightly. Instead of choosing to speak, Sherlock chose instead to roll his eyes and continue on the path, letting John know there nothing to worry about. 

At this moment there was a part of John that was still trying to figure out what was going on with his head, following a Kaster into a dark cavern. His thoughts didn't linger on it too long as Sherlock guided him around a curve in the wall and a little bit of light became visible ahead at another turn.

"Do silence yourself, blood," Sherlock grumbled (or was it chided?) as they came upon the turn. He hesitated for only a moment before he relinquished his hold on John's hand, not one for showing affection in front of others.

"Brother dear, why do I hear another set of feet besides your own?" Hissed an obviously irritated voice from the other room. As they rounded the turn John saw someone sitting at a table in the middle of the room that the entry way led to. It was another Kaster, who in John's opinion, was attractive but not as attractive as Sherlock, but unlike his naked brother, this one wore a silk robe befitting of a king.

"Obviously I have not killed him, Mycroft," Sherlock responded as he gently took hold of John's elbow.

John mentally thanked the elder brother for the momentary delay as it gave him a chance to look around the room they were in. He didn't focus on any one part of the room just yet, wanting to take in as much as he could, as quickly as he could, since he didn't know how long the delay would last. Plus if these two got physical over this situation John wanted to know the lay of the room. The room they had come in when they arrived was pretty much barren, save for the table where Mycroft sat in one of the two chairs placed at it. The only other items were a couple of candle stands that provided the dim lighting for the section of the cave they were in. From his spot he could see a few entrances to other parts of the cave, one of which he and Sherlock had been headed towards.

"You brought home dinner that is _alive_?" Mycroft raised his brow in surprise. But even as he looked at the man he could tell the human was not frightened. He showed a calm and collected exterior, and as Mycroft listened to the heartbeat within John's chest he could hear that he was indeed calm. He was even looking at his surroundings, obviously making a mental map of the room. "Have you gone daft, brother, or do you plan to experiment before we eat? Nothing to tarnish his flavor, I hope."

John looked to his taller friend, confused when Sherlock had stopped moving, only to stare straight at the entrance they were headed to.

"Mycroft," Sherlock drew out, an odd tone to his voice as he spoke, "he is not dinner. You will have to fetch your own meal tonight or do without." He turned only his head to look over his shoulder at his brother. "Though it would probably do you well to do without for a night or four. Perhaps it would aid you in luring in more prey if it wasn't so obvious that you plan to consume them if they fail the test."

"Keep him by your side, brother mine," Mycroft warned, a little growl in his words, "for if I find him without you, I cannot say I won't be full when you return."

"I'm not afraid of you."

The Holmes brothers broke the silent stare they had fallen into, looking over at the human, who was looking over his shoulder at the elder brother. His jaw was set in place and his back was now very straight, and his shoulders were straightened out, no longer in a slight slouch as he locked eyes with Mycroft.

"I beg your pardon?" Mycroft prodded with an amused yet disbelieving smile. _This man is either a poor fool who has no idea just what kind of world he is currently in, or a man who has seen more than enough horrors to numb him to danger..._ Mycroft briefly ran his eyes over John one more time, judging his body language. _...Or he gets a thrill from it._

"I. Am not. Afraid. Of you." John held Mycroft's gaze as he spoke. "Did you get it that time? Now that I've slowed it down for you? Or do I need to explain further?"

Sherlock looked to John, surprised by the boldness with which he had spoken to Mycroft. He was a human, in a cave of predators, and yet he wasn't afraid. His tone was cold and even, threatening almost, and his body language said that he would be more than happy to attempt putting Mycroft in his place should he try anything. This made the ex-soldier more interesting than he had been before. He momentarily thought about killing the man just to dissect his brain and figure out the human puzzle before him. Sherlock looked at his brother's amused, glittering eyes and raised a brow at the shock hiding there, only detectable by Sherlock's honed deducing skills.

"You do know that I could-"

"No."

Mycroft's eyes darkened at the interruption. His lips pulled into a thin line as he regarded the shorter-than-him human. "Kill you."

"No." John shook his head without breaking eye contact with the elder Holmes brother. "No you couldn't." He broke eye contact long enough to nod to Sherlock before looking back to Mycroft. "Even if I couldn't save myself against you, he would. I don't have to worry about you. So, are you done with your empty and pointless threats? I would really like to get on with our time."

Mycroft looked from John to his brother and the two Holmes brothers shared a long look, a silent conversation, before Mycroft gave a dismissing wave and returned to the paper he had been reading when the pair had come into the cave. When the two proceeded into Sherlock's part of the cave, Mycroft raised his gaze to the retreating backs and raised a brow at what his brother had brought home.He wondered if younger Sherlock had been old enough for current, older Sherlock to remember what happened to their eldest, long dead, brother when he took to hanging around humans instead of killing them like their race was supposed to. There was a balance to things and his brother had found out the hard way that humans could never be trusted. Mycroft wondered how long it would be before Sherlock learned the unfortunate lesson.

The younger Holmes led the now former priest to the section of the cave that he had claimed as his own and began to walk around, lighting candles to illuminate the room. It was a bit larger than his brother's private section of the cave, due to the room he needed for his studies and lab experiments, but it was perfect for what he needed.

When the brothers had found the cave that they would end up calling their own, it only had two offshoot tunnels, but they made two more offshoot tunnel and carved out an additional six caves. The tunnels and caves had all been made useful in one way or another; tunnels for food storage, since they were so deep into the ground, and caves for personal use.

In Sherlock's cave it was exactly 22 feet (6.7 meters) long and 25 feet (7.6 meters) across, perfectly measured for his needs. One of the walls had been made the spot for his bookshelf as he had carved into the rock until he had six shelves, ten feet (3 meters) in length, with the lower shelf being taller than the other shelves for the taller books he had. There were other shelves carved into the rock walls and they all had different things that they held. Some of them were vials and bottles of only-Sherlock-knew-what, while some of them had other items and one even had what looked to be a human skull, save for the teeth, as the canines had a slightly sharper point. _Like Sherlock's,_ John noted.

In the middle of the room was a lab table with a complete set up of anything Sherlock would need, including several notebooks and journals scattered about. Some had marked pages, while others did not.

There was something missing, however, if this was Sherlock's private room as he had claimed. John noticed that there was nowhere to sleep.

"Sherlock?"

"Yes John?" Sherlock responded as his guarded eyes watched the human walk around, examining his new surroundings. _He's going to ask about the skull..._

"Do you sleep in here?" Blue eyes met with confused hazel eyes.

It took Sherlock a moment to recoil from his sudden shock as it faded to disappointment at how oblivious he had thought John to be of the skull. _Such a shame..._ He gave a bored sigh as he answered the question that should not have been hard to figure out on John's own. "That is what one does in their room."

"Well, yes, but there is no bed." John looked around again. "Or do your kind sleep on the floor?"

In that moment Sherlock remembered that humans were used to beds for sleeping. He never used one as he didn't need it, given his habits. "I sleep sitting up at my table, so that I may return to my studies when I wake," he explained as he lit the last candle and then turned to face his guest.

"Ah... Small problem then."

"You require a bed."

John nodded at the statement. "I could take a cot if you've got one, or something I could make-"

"I will make you a temporary bed until I make you a more permanent bed. Do you have any other questions?"

"Who is he?"

Sherlock's eyes flashed with excitement that was quickly contained as he gave a quickly-here-then-gone smile before he looked to the skull, secretly over-joyed that John had noticed the skull. "He's an old friend Billy was his name, shame that he is gone." He looked to his living companion. "I will let you explore this room further while I go and fetch what I will need to make your temporary bed. Do take care not to disrupt anything."

John watched as Sherlock left before he began to explore the room that his friend had made for himself in the cave. He did have a moment where he did wonder where they were underground, in relation to the world above, but a noise behind him made him turn around. He was not surprised when he saw Mycroft standing in the entry way.

"Might I help you?"

"What game are you playing with my little brother?" Before he could argue with Mycroft he was cut off. "Don't make me ask twice, his wrath does _not_ frighten me."

"I am not playing any games, nor do I seek anything from him. I am here because he gave me the option to be."

"What is he to you besides a walking pile of treasure wrapped in flesh?"

"He is a living being to me, though we are still working out the details between us. What is it to you?" While he spoke with Mycroft he had positioned himself to rest his hip against the counter of Sherlock's lab table. He had seen the scalpel on the surface and wanted to be near it if need be.

"Consider this, _John_ ," his voice dripped with a venom that was not lost on John, "we are a rare breed, in more ways than one. One of which is that the two of us are the last of the Holmes legacy. If you prove to be a risk to his safety I will what I must. You see, no matter how mad he gets at me he will _always_ come home, so that is why his ire means nothing to me. He does not bring home strays, yet here you stand, prey in a hunter's cave, so that must mean that you are somehow important to him. I will allow you to live here, for now, but as I said before prove to be a problem..."

"I understand, but what you need to get Mycroft, is that I am loyal to me. If he should tell me to go I would, without trouble. He is brilliant, his room alone can tell you that, so obviously he isn't stupid enough to not think through any idea he gets. Who do you question him?"

Mycroft regarded the human for a moment as he begrudgingly admitted to himself that John Watson was a very confusing human, even for his own intelligence, before he spoke. "As I said before, my brother does not have a tendency to bring home strays. When he breaks pattern I _must_ question it."

John gave a short nod of understanding. "You won't have to worry about me. If you don't mind though, I would like to continue looking around."

Mycroft nodded and backed out of the room before he walked down the tunnel towards the exit of the cave. He hated the smug look on Sherlock's face as he approached.

"Satisfied Mycroft?" Sherlock queried, a grin stretching his lips; his eyes glittered in what little light was filtering into the tunnel from the main cave area.

"He may stay for now, brother mine," Mycroft answered. "But I will not tolerate that rudeness from him again. Now go, fetch the bedding for your pet."

Mycroft watched his brother leave the cave before he let his mask fall to show the worry underneath. "Do be careful Sherlock," he spoke to the air, "your loss would break my heart..."


End file.
